Prequel to Arkham Asylum
by Trumpeteer34
Summary: *The story behind my very first fanfic* Arnold Wesker aka the Ventriloquist and Scarface pull a heist. What happens when things start to go wrong?


**Prelude to Arkham Asylum**

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I do not own Arnold Wesker, Scarface, or Rhino. They belong to DC Comics (Batman, in particular). The other characters are purely from my imagination. This was written purely for fun. **Strong Language and Violence. **_**Be warned**_

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"Alright, youse mugs! Gather 'round!"

A number of gang members clumped around their bosses. They were standing in one of the various hideouts across Gotham City. In the center of their circle stood a balding, older man in a black tuxedo. His thick glasses reflected much of the light in the hideout. But it wasn't him the mugsters were there for; it was the dummy attached to the man's arm. It was a nasty little puppet; dressed in 1920s gangster attire, complete with a cigar and tommy gun, he was the one who called all the shots in their gang. Across his right cheek was a deep gash.

The dummy's glass eyes glared around at the people who surrounded him and the Ventriloquist. "Clear your schedules, boys, cause we're pullin' a job tomorrow night." He proceeded to explain the heist.

"Uh, Mr. Scarface!" interrupted a voice from the back of the group.

Scarface stopped, an irritated look forming on his face. He glared past the goons to a shorter man in the back. "What, Santori?!"

"It's kinda hard to hear ya from back here. Do you mind repeatin' where this is?" Santori asked.

Scarface heaved an angry sigh. "Waynetech," he said harshly and overly-emphasized.

"Thanks, boss," Santori said with a laugh.

The dummy shook his head and turned. "That's it for now, boys. Start gettin' ready for tomorrow." As the group began to disperse, he called a name. "Yo, Rhino."

A massive man stopped and turned to his bosses. He followed the two away from the others to talk in private. "What's up, boss?" he asked in a gruff voice. He stared down at the two. The Ventriloquist himself didn't even come up to his shoulders.

Scarface eyed a few men passing by before speaking. "Ya know about Marcini, right?"

Rhino nodded. He had most certainly heard about Marcini. The fool and his gang had been trying to steal from Scarface for the few months he had been around.

"Well, I have a feelin' the dumbass will try somethin', so you'll be with us durin' the heist," the dummy continued.

"Sure thing, boss," Rhino replied with a thumbs up. "I won't let nothin' happen to the two of you."

* * *

The next night finally arrived. Wesker was seated in the back of a car, heading out to their destination. Scarface was perched on the man's knee, arms crossed and glaring forward.

The day had been pretty uneventful. The pair had kept to themselves for most of the daylight hours, but once the sun had set, they were out supervising the gang members in their preparations for the heist.

"Mr. Scarface...?"

The dummy blinked and turned to the Ventriloquist. "What is it, Dummy?! Can't ya see I'm thinkin'?!" he snapped.

Wesker bit his bottom lip nervously, his eyes shifting to the window, then back to his boss. "...I-I have a bad feeling about all of this," he said.

"Oh, a bad feelin', huh?" Scarface repeated mockingly. "Big deal. Ya always feel that way before pullin' a job."

"I know, but...I don't think this is going to go well," Wesker explained. "I think something is going to go wrong. What if Marcini shows up--?"

"If the dumbass tries somethin', he'll hafta get through Rhino before he makes it to us," Scarface interrupted. "Don'tcha remember the talk we had with him yesterday?" When the Ventriloquist didn't respond, he continued. "Nothin' to worry 'bout. We'll be fine."

The car came to a halt, cutting their conversation short. Wesker peered out at the building with nervous eyes. The driver killed the engine and stepped out of the car. He proceeded to check out their surroundings.

The dummy returned his eyes to the Ventriloquist. "...Everything'll be fine, Arnie."

Wesker's mildly shocked eyes shot to Scarface. 'He called me Arnie...?' The two stared at each other. The dummy had lost his tough-air, looking almost gentle.

"I'll be with ya the entire time," Scarface continued.

Strange as it may sound, Wesker slightly relaxed. The thought of having Scarface there protecting him was almost soothing. He finally gave a nod. "A-Alright, Mr. Scarface."

"Atta boy," Scarface said, getting that tough look on his face again as the car door was opened. "Let's do this."

The pair stepped out of the vehicle. They were then approached by Rhino, who's senses were on alert for anything out of the ordinary. "Everything's all set up, boss. We're ready."

"Alright," Scarface replied, looking past Rhino to a few other gang members, all armed. "Make it quick."

With that said, the men got to work. They easily busted the lock and before long, they were inside the building. Scarface and Wesker stood off to the side, watching their men work. Rhino stood nearby, continuing to look around for anything potentially dangerous.

A gunshot shattered the silence and a bullet whizzed by the Ventriloquist's face. Wesker jumped, nearly having a heart attack. Rhino whipped out his handgun and shot at the man who had fired the first shot.

"Who the HELL is shootin'?!" Scarface roared, turning and glaring about with furious eyes.

"Who do ya think?" came the cold response.

Wesker and Scarface turned to face Mancini and his gang at the other end of the building, standing defiantly with a smirk plastered on his face. "I bet you're wonderin' why I'm here--"

"No shit, Sherlock!" Scarface interrupted angrily. "Which of my men ratted on me to ya?!"

As Mancini grinned, Santori stepped out from behind Mancini. His icy eyes locked on the Ventriloquist.

Scarface breathed a curse. "Well, I hope youse weren't so preoccupied with the thought of dukin' it out with me that ya didn't pay the coppers any thought." The look of realization that suddenly appeared on Mancini's face only made the dummy angrier. "YA DAMNED MORON!"

"Don't you talk to him like that!" one of Mancini's men yelled as he aimed his weapon--

Rhino fired his handgun and shot the man dead before he even reached for the trigger. This sent the two mobs into a gun fight, bullets flying from both sides. Rhino grabbed a nearby metal table and flipped it onto its side. He then turned and forced the Ventriloquist to hide behind it. "Stay down," he said harshly before he returned his attention to the battle underway.

Wesker didn't need to be told twice. He stayed down behind the metal shield, trying to block out the sounds of gunfire and people dying.

"Well, Dummy, looks like youse were right," Scarface said casually, bringing the older man's eyes to him. The dummy gazed at him out of the corners of his eyes. "Looks like we oughta take your intuition a little more seriously next time--"

His voice trailed off when he saw a soft, flashing blue light begin to reflect off of Wesker's glasses. His head whipped around to a window as the sound of police sirens became audible over the gunfire.

Wesker stared at the window with panicked eyes.

"Ah, shit! Rhino, we're splittin'!" Scarface cursed loudly. His head whipped back around and he looked at the Ventriloquist. "Run, Dummy!"

The older man took off, away from the chaos behind them. The police fire-power was added to the gunshots fired between the two mobs as he and Scarface escaped from the battlefield and fled down a deserted hall.

Wesker turned a corner and skidded to a stop. His widened eyes locked on Santori, the rat. The man was reloading his handgun. He pointed the weapon at Scarface and the Ventriloquist.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wesker," the squealer began in a cold voice. "Mancini had a pretty nice bounty on your head. You have always said to take opportunity whenever it presents itself. Ya taught me well, you dummy."

"Who's the dummy?" Scarface shot back. "I don't quite remember tellin' ya to stab your boss in the back!"

Santori heaved an annoyed sigh. "Alright, seriously. Drop the act."

The Ventriloquist raised an eyebrow. "W-What act?" he asked in a shaky voice.

"What the Hell are ya talkin' about, ya dumbass?" Scarface growled.

"That's it!" Santori yelled. "I've had enough of this!" His finger tightened on the trigger and he fired. The bullet tore through Scarface's chest and Wesker's hand.

As the puppet master let out a yelp of pain, the dummy's eyes shot to the rat. "What the HELL was that for?!"

He was answered by a round of bullets, another in the chest and one through his eye. The force from the second shot sent Scarface from Wesker's wounded hand.

The Ventriloquist gripped his wrist with his unwounded hand and stared down at his bleeding hand, eyes wide.

"And now..."

The man finally looked across the room to Santori to discover the handgun was pointed directly at him. He could feel the tremble that now covered him completely.

"Consider this my resignation," the rat continued. He pulled the trigger.

Wesker stared on, feeling numb to the world. Reality seemed to slow--

He snapped from his daze when he felt a massive hand push him out of the bullet's path. As he fell to the ground, he saw Rhino standing between the rat and himself.

He hit the tile floor on his back, his head turned. He opened his eyes to find himself face-to-face with the bullet-riddled Scarface. He drew a terrified breath and his eyes shot to the air above him. 'Oh God. Oh God...' his racing mind repeated. 'It can't be...'

"...M-M-Mr. S-Scarface? he finally managed to stutter. He didn't look to his beloved dummy; he waited for a response. 'He can't be gone. He can't!'

When no crude or angry remark came, his eyes slammed shut. He could barely hear the number of gunshots fired from Santori and the soft gasps of pain from Rhino as he took bullet after bullet.

Rhino advanced on the rat, continuing to take the rounds intended for the Ventriloquist. "Get outta here, now!" he yelled over his shoulder at his bosses.

His words were lost. Wesker had stepped into a different realm outside reality. He couldn't feel the pain in his hand or the trembling across his body. He only felt the growing panic. 'He's gone. He's gone. He's--'

Almost instantly, he grew still. He laid there for a moment, gathering his senses. He finally opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. He slowly sat up and looked at Rhino, then over toward the dummy beside him. He casually grabbed the tommy gun with his unwounded hand and rose to his feet. He stood there, almost oblivious to what was going on before him.

Rhino wrestled the handgun from Santori and grabbed him by the shoulders. He hurled the rat behind him and turned. He saw one of his bosses standing there, un-phased by the being who had just flown by him. "Mr. Ventriloquist, go. I got this."

The man made no facial expression. He took a few steps back until he was standing by the rat's head. In one swift movement, he pointed the tommy gun at Santori's head.

The rat looked over to see he was face-to-face with the barrel of the weapon. "Now, Mr. Wesker, don't do anythin' you'll regret," he stammered.

"That ain't my name," came Scarface's voice.

Both Rhino and Santori looked to the battered dummy, then back to the man with the tommy gun.

He glared down at the rat on the ground. "Consider this your termination." With that, he pulled the trigger and fired a round of shots into Santori's head.

Rhino stared down at the dead body with wide eyes. Never did he think Wesker would ever hurt anyone, let alone KILL anyone! His confused eyes returned to the older man. "You feelin' alright, Mr. Ventriloquist?"

He looked at Rhino over the rims of his glasses with irritated eyes. "I ain't the Dummy, ya knucklehead," came Scarface's voice from Wesker's mouth.

Rhino blinked, still staring at his boss. "I'm confused," he finally said.

"An' ya think I ain't?" Scarface said from Wesker's body. He glanced down at his wounded hand, blood still flowing freely down his arm and dripping to the ground.

"Well, if you're him, then is he you?" Rhino continued, peering over to the lifeless dummy by the dead Santori. His vision doubled, due to blood-loss, no doubt. He shook his head. 'I must be delirious...ain't no way this is happenin'...'

"I ain't sure," Scarface said. He could hear the shouts of the cops trying to take control of the gun fight from down the hall. "We'll discuss this later. Grab that," he began, pointing down at the dummy on the ground, "and let's get outta here."

Rhino nodded and retrieved Scarface's wooden body, shaking his head to regain his vision. The two then took off down the hall and away from the heist-gone-wrong, both armed.

They were about to turn a corner when they heard a shout from down the hall. "You two! Freeze!"

"Not in your life, copper!" Scarface yelled. They turned the corner to discover they had reached a dead end. "Shit!" They turned and ran down another hall.

The cops caught up with the two.

Rhino and Scarface finally turned and faced the police. They raised their weapons and glared on. They could see a few men and women behind the cops: workers from Arkham Asylum.

"Oh, Hell no," Scarface growled softly, his glare hardening behind the thick lenses on his nose. "Ain't no way we're goin' to the nuthouse."

Rhino turned slightly when he heard Scarface. He glanced back at the folks in white again, finally realizing who they were. He stepped in front of his boss. "I ain't gonna let nothin' happen to ya. Get outta here." He pushed the wooden dummy into Scarface's arms.

Scarface stared down at his body briefly, then he took off.

Rhino stood unsteadily, the loss of blood from his multiple gunshot wounds finally getting to his head. He put a massive hand on a nearby wall to help steady himself.

"Mr. Daily, we know you're wounded!" one officer finally yelled, breaking the silence between the battlefield. "We can help you!"

"I don't need your help," Rhino responded angrily. He fired a shot at the man who had spoken, but missed drastically. He blinked repeatedly, trying to focus his eyes. A darkness slowly crept into his vision.

"Mr. Daily," an asylum worker called from behind the cops, "why were you carrying Scarface?"

Rhino fell to his knees, trying to remain conscious. "I ain't tellin' you nothin'," he said. He finally fell forward and passed out.

As a cop radioed for paramedics, the rest of the fleet ran past the massive body on the ground to catch a man and his dummy.

Scarface continued to run, his tommy gun in one hand and the dummy in his other. 'This ain't happenin'...Ain't no way this is happenin'...'

"Freeze, Wesker!" came a shout from down the hall.

'SHIT!' his mind roared. He shot a glare over his shoulder. The police had caught up with him. He skidded to a stop and raised his tommy gun. He began to fire round after round at the men and women down the hall, walking backwards.

The police hid behind the corner of the wall. "Mr. Wesker, put the weapon down!" another officer yelled from a megaphone.

Scarface paused only briefly. "Don't call me that!" he yelled before pulling the trigger again. "I ain't the Dummy!"

As the force ducked from the bullets again, one turned to a pair of asylum workers. "He's not even working the dummy. I saw his lips move when Scarface spoke." As he returned his attention to the gunshots, the asylum workers exchanged nervous looks.

"I repeat, drop the weapon, Wesker!"

Scarface continued to move back. "I AIN'T THE DUMMY!" he roared. He proceeded to release round after round against the fleet behind the corner--

A massive pair of arms suddenly wove themselves through his. He felt two hands then place themselves on the lower part of his head. He found himself in an armlock and let out an angry yell. "Let go of me!" he roared--

The arms pulled back and put him in a tighter armlock. He lost his grip on the tommy gun and the dummy, both falling to the floor. He was also lifted from the ground.

Scarface's furious eyes tried to see the person who had caught him. "Put me down, ya bastard!" he continued to yell, now kicking and struggling like mad to escape.

"Mr. Wesker, please, calm down," the officer behind him said, trying to sound gentle.

"I AIN'T THE FUCKIN' DUMMY!!!" Scarface roared, his efforts to escape only intensifying. "Put me down!"

"I got him," the cop called to the fleet down the hall. "Come on out. And radio for paramedics."

A few paramedics, cops, and Arkham workers rounded the corner. They approached the struggling man and the cop. "We've got an ambulance outside to take him to Arkham--"

"I ain't goin' to the nuthouse!" Scarface yelled, his arms and legs flailing.

The cop struggled to keep his armlock tight. "Calm down!" He began to move down the hall. "What's gotten into you?"

"I dunno," Scarface growled, growing still to catch his breath. He shook with the amount of anger flowing through him. "But even if I did, I wouldn't tell ya." He took a breath and continued to struggle.

They made it back to the main room where the battle between the gangs had taken place. The police were leading a few of the remaining mobsters out the doors in cuffs. The ground was covered in bullet casings and bodies.

The cop approached a stretcher at the rear of an ambulance. Beside it were Arkham workers. It took all of them to keep him still so they could fasten the straps across his body. He was then put into the back of the ambulance and before long, it was speeding off to Arkham.

Scarface glared up at the ceiling, seething and shaking with rage. He felt something touch his wounded hand. His furious eyes shot to a woman, attempting to stop the bleeding. "What the HELL are ya doin'!?"

The woman peered over at him. "I'm trying to help you," she answered.

Before he could continue, another asylum worker spoke. "Do you want to tell us why it's you we're talking to and not Mr. Wesker?"

"How the Hell should I know?!" Scarface snapped, glaring from the woman to the man. He began to struggle against the binds holding him down.

"Listen, I know you're confused, but you have to calm down," the worker continued.

"I ain't gonna calm down!" Scarface yelled. His eyes returned to the woman who was at his wounded hand. "Get the fuck away from me!"

The woman continued to try to stop the bleeding. The man heaved an irritated sigh and pulled out a needle, filled with a sedative-hypnotic. "This is for your own good."

"I somehow doubt that," the man strapped to the stretcher snarled. Despite that statement, he was injected with the fluid.

After maybe a minute, his shaking had come to a stop. "Damn, this shit works fast," he said, his words slightly slurred. He tried to fight off the darkness that was creeping into his vision with no success. He finally passed out.


End file.
